


A Naughty Niffler

by bunnystealsyourcarrots



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU but canon-ish, F/M, Fantastic Porn And Where To Find It, Hermione definitely shows her crack, Inappropriate Use Of A Niffler, PWP, Porn With A Ridiculous Plot, Smut, this might be a crack fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:26:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24084316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnystealsyourcarrots/pseuds/bunnystealsyourcarrots
Summary: Hermione finds herself sucked into an unknown world with an old familiar face
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle
Comments: 35
Kudos: 85





	A Naughty Niffler

The soft peach-colored ground shivered again beneath Hermione’s feet.

A rumble between her bare toes, and she barely swallowed back her disgust. As if strolling through a nightmare, the newest Unspeakable could only make out endless black ahead of and behind her. At most, she had a foot of dimly-lit space around her body, and the strangest prickly fibers tickled her arms if ever she attempted to turn left or right. For the time being, it appeared that the suffocating labyrinth- that she’d unexpectedly started- demanded that she either stay put or go boldly forward, and Hermione rubbed her hands down her face. 

How she ended up in this hellish landscape, she couldn’t remember.

Hermione recalled the rest of her team leaving early for Harpy Happy Hour at The Leaky Cauldron. The soft-spoken head of her department had promised with a twinkle in her eyes that a couple of rounds of mugs full of mistakes were on her after Hermione’s first full week on the job. She’d joked that, “What happens in the Department of Mysteries, stays buried in the Department of Mysteries”, but before Hermione left to partake in bonding with booze, she’d felt a nagging need to clean her new office. A type-A urge that made the pretty brunette call out her plans to meet up with the rest of the crew in an hour at most, and inside her office, she’d been happily tidying up a cobweb-covered cabinet before she wound up sucked into this place. 

This musky embrace. 

This walk on the wild side that had her abandoning her heels after a few seconds. The moist and squishy terrain far easier to navigate when she wasn’t bobbing about like a lush on sweaty cobblestones, and with her strappy shoes looped around her fingers, she made a pact with herself to keep calm and carry on. For a few minutes, Hermione foolishly convinced herself that she’d managed to iron out her fears. The lump in her throat kept only marble-sized when it began as a boulder, but then she gave up on breathing entirely after realizing that her new home had a heartbeat. 

That wet thudding sound that she’d taken for granted as forest-like ambient noise had suddenly quickened and slowed again. The steady pounding growing louder and louder, and once Hermione connected the dots that she was inside of something- someone- she gagged.

_“Where in Salazar’s stockings am I?”_

She bent over and hugged her knees. A good old-fashioned purge leaping from her stomach and into her throat, and if it wasn’t for her Gryffindor nerve, Hermione would have cried out. For if ever she required a helping hand, it was understandably right after admitting to herself that she'd entered a literal belly of a beast. 

Why not indulge in a full-blown fit, she thought to herself. 

Why not sloppily beg for someone to save her for a change? 

There wasn't a wizard alive who could blame her for blubbering. The gal had earned enough shocked tears for two lifetimes, but since there was also a high risk of an unknown predator sussing out her location if she went and screamed her head off, poor practical Hermione settled for silently sobbing instead. Her mouth pitifully wobbling when the floor trembled for the fiftieth time. Her shaky knees finally failing her after she'd been brave for so long, and she plopped down onto the ground for a sad little sit. Her back resting against a heaving fur wall. Her chin sunk against her chest. 

She didn’t want to touch anything again- to be touched.

“You lasted longer than I expected.”

"What?" Hermione popped her head up, and she frantically pat down her pleather pencil skirt to retrieve her wand that was most definitely still on her desk. “W-Who said that?”

“I did.” 

The husky voice raised when a man emerged out of the black. It turned out that the owner of the mocking tone looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties. He stood over six-foot-tall with sharp elegant features, pale skin, and black as midnight eyes that stumbled Hermione's heart out of rhythm. She couldn't tell if he was a friend or foe, but he wore clothes from another time and a slow-growing smirk; A teasing tug of unfairly full lips and there was something familiar about his arrogance.

“Who are you?”

“Your only source for company,” the handsome stranger quipped, and he dropped to a crouch in front of her. “Lucky for you.”

The insufferable answer didn’t win him any points with Hermione, but she shook off her annoyance long enough to focus on what mattered.

“Where are we?” 

He cocked his head to the side, studied her for a beat. “A place that won’t let go of pretty objects.”

Hermione scoffed. “Is that what you think I am?”

“Isn’t that why your thighs pressed when you saw me?” he countered, mischievously lowering his gaze to her pursed mouth and perky chest before meeting her eyes again. “Isn’t that why your stare lingers, and your pulse speeds so gorgeously at your throat? If we both find the other unreasonably attractive, it sure seems like a reasonable guess that we’ve been stolen away thanks to our mutually beneficial charms. And I, for one, am not as bothered by it as I should be.”

“You want to be kept?”

“No,” he shook his head, tugged his bottom lip between his teeth before cheekily letting go, “but I’m at least honest enough to admit that others covet me.” 

“You’re a rascal.”

He planted a hand on the ground beside her. “I’ve been called worse.”

A self-preserving impulse hit to push away the man in old-fashioned robes. He looked like the kind of smooth bastard who deserved a punch for something he’d gotten away with, but Hermione’s fingers didn't form a fist. To both of their surprise, she reached for his hunter-green tie. She pulled him close. The desire to forget her fears for a few moments overriding common sense, and there was his hand at her waist. A possessive squeeze. Her body arching towards his exacting touch that heated her even over her clothes. A silent promise made between them to keep their minds and limbs occupied somewhere far away from panic and diverted into poorly-thought out pleasure for a while, and Hermione leaned in. 

The hot air was already thick and sticky.

Why not add to it?

If distraction tasted as divine as his mouth on hers, she’d damn well drink her fill.

Who kissed who first could be up for later debate, but there was no stopping either one of them once they made contact. They bypassed tentative in favor of frantic need. Her hand roaming from his high cheekbones to his chest before wrapping around his tie again. A pull of him even closer, and he deftly plucked open her blouse buttons. Her freckled skin bared for him. The view flaring his nostrils, and with a needy groan, he dropped his head to lick and suck and savor. The ends of his black curls tickling her chin when he nipped at her breast, yanked down her enthusiastically boring bra. 

The edge of his teeth dragging her nipples into hard and pink and covered in wet, and Hermione let out a laugh when the ground shifted beneath them- a pretty little sound in a hopeless situation. 

A pop of incredulous, but what else could she do but laugh at herself when someone teased her so?

She wasn’t normally the kind of witch who let a man ravish her after one compliment. She was the Golden Girl. She’d brought back peace to the muggle and wizarding worlds for Merlin’s sake. You had to at least call her the most brilliant witch of her age to get a tit squeeze, but reckless looked good on her. 

He looked good over her. 

He also looked far too dressed.

“This is a terrible idea,” she broke off the kiss, shaking her head no even as her thighs parted obediently when he roughly hitched her knees up to hug his trim waist. “I generally don’t do terrible ideas,” she gasped, pulling his white dress shirt out of his trousers so that she could rake her nails down his abs and lower.

“I wish I could say the same,” he chuckled.

He flicked rogue curls off of his forehead, pushed her flat on her back.

His thick erection grinding over and over Hermione’s mound, and why were there so many clothes between them? Why wasn't he in her? His sweat smearing on her skin, and showing that great minds think alike, he sucked on her clavicle. A wet popping noise. A lewd lick of her salty sweetness. 

The best reason to flutter her lashes, but weren’t those his cufflinks falling when he pushed his sleeves up? The sound of the metal jewelry hitting the ground, missing. The lack of an expected clink making Hermione’s brow furrow into rows of concern, but what wasn’t odd about this situation?

Before Hermione could get a handle on her confused runaway train of thoughts, the stranger ripped the crotch of her underwear to the side. All things forgotten that didn't involve her pussy prodded by two of his fingers, her body tightening with anticipation for more. A delicious ragged grunt from him announcing that she was so damn tight- would feel so snug around him- and who cared about lost items when he yanked her skirt up to her waist. Thrust his cock into her soaked sex with an approving sound that hummed against her neck, and she mewled. His shaft glistening from Hermione's passion when he pulled out again, and her big brown eyes fixated on the obscene visual of him going in her again. 

The sight blowing her mind. 

The thought of blowing him later flushing her skin.

“Oh fuck-” she moaned, “Oh fuck, you feel good.”

“You’re so slick _for_ me,” he grinned, shifting his weight back until Hermione sat on his lap. His hands carding through her curls to palm her scalp. His fingers curving, nails scraping. A sharp pull of her hair to the side by someone who knew how and Hermione looked up at him with reverence. “You’re so greedy _like_ me.” 

As if to prove his point, he slowed, and she whimpered.

A pleading for him to go faster fell shamelessly off her lips, but Hermione would happily debase herself for anyone who stretched her like that, pushed his thumb across her cheek to between her lips. A demand for her to suck him, and ever the overachiever, she did as instructed while dropping down onto his cock.

A curl of her tongue. 

A clench of her cunt.

“I’m gonna,” Hermione choked out, riding him faster, “I’m gonna-”

That was all he needed to hear to slam up into her.

A punishing and perfect rhythm.

The vulgar sounds of skin on skin slapping together, and Hermione’s necklace bounced against her chest with every forceful smack. The pearl drop in the middle of her breast digging into his bare pecs while he gripped her hips for a deeper angle. The gold links scratching angry red marks into him that made him wince, and when he snapped and aggressively ripped the necklace off her throat, Hermione screamed and came on him all at once. 

A mutter of the word bastard hanging in the air between them as he finished, and he laughed. 

The necklace dropped.

The rolling ground practically panting beneath them, and it took eons before Hermione summoned the energy to slide off her lover’s lap. Her hair fluffy and well fucked. Her eyes, half-open. "I can't believe you tore my necklace off," she lazily chided him, gently pushed him away with her foot. "My mum gave that to me."

Not the least bit apologetic, he gestured towards his scratched up chest. "I'm not a fan of being branded."

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "Oh, you like to be the one doing the branding?"

His lips twitched. "You have no idea."

The gall of him jogged something in Hermione’s memory, and she tapped a finger against her jaw. “You know, you remind me of someone.”

He tucked himself back into his trousers. “Hmm, who’s the handsome fellow?”

“It’s hazy.” Hermione’s nose scrunched up, and she sighed. “Honestly, it’s so bloody hot in here that I’m having trouble thinking straight.”

“Is that why you fucked someone you don’t even know?”

A resounding rebuttal took a step up to leap off of Hermione’s tongue, but her thoughts pivoted after noticing her midday mistake failing to recover his cufflinks. “You can’t find them, can you?”

“I’m sure they’re around here somewhere,” he muttered, patting the ground.

Hermione swung her glance around. “My necklace has vanished too!”

“That's interesting,” he drawled without sounding the least bit interested, and he continued feeling around the floor and up a furry wall. “ However, right now, we’re looking for my things.”

It didn’t pass Hermione’s notice that as soon as her beautiful stranger had received what he’d wanted, he’d sidelined his charm. There wasn’t any post-coital affection on the menu, and Hermione could tell that she’d been rendered expendable. All he needed was himself after having her, and with all the grace of a newborn colt, Hermione staggered up to standing. She turned around in a circle. Her hands on her hips. Her lips thinned as she concentrated on working out the answer to their troubles that felt only just obnoxiously out of reach. “I-I think-” she started and stopped. “I think this place took them.”

“That’s absurd.”

“It’s no more absurd than us being here,” Hermione shot back while aggressively adjusteding her skirt, “and I could have sworn that when you dropped my necklace the ground panted. Didn’t you feel that?”

“I was a bit preoccupied.”

“Oh, hush,” Hermione waved him off. She wiggled a ring off her finger and released it. As she suspected, before the gold piece hit the ground, it was whisked away on a breeze from nowhere. “See!”

Her stranger stopped fidgeting. “Curious.”

“What were your cufflinks made of?”

“Emerald and silver.”

“My necklace was pearl and gold…”Hermione trailed off, and her eyes widened. “Oh Merlin’s beard, I think we’re in a niffler’s pocket.”

“A niffler’s pocket?” he echoed.

“Correct,” Hermione’s head bobbed in confirmation, and she walked her fingertips along the wall. “I’ve read about them in Fantastic Beasts. They’re magical creatures who hoard jewels and precious metals- they resemble moles.”

He blinked twice. “And we’re inside one?”

“I believe so.”

“Why?”

“Beats me,” Hermione shrugged, but she gave his vintage robes and penny loafers a second look. “How long have you been here?”

“It feels like ages.”

“Did you have any other gold or jewelry on you when you first arrived?”

He scratched the back of his neck. “A few galleons went missing early on, and there was an antique cup that I’d recently acquired.”

“It’s going to sound mad,” Hermione blew out an exhale, and held up the last ring on her finger. “But I think the niffler was attracted to our possessions, and it scooped us up along with them. I suspect that if we give everything of value up, the beast might toss us out.”

“I could finally nip out of here?” The man’s eyes brightened with hope, but then his gaze fell to his hand. He skimmed his thumb over a ring on his finger. A small shake of his head. “I...um, right. I best be off.”

He took a step to continue on and Hermione grabbed his bicep. “Wait, why won’t you surrender your ring for your freedom? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It has sentimental value,” he spat out.

“You don’t strike me as the sentimental sort.”

The stubborn frown confirmed that he planned to stay in the flesh forest if it meant keeping what was his, and Hermione took a step back. The unbelievable reaction set off warning alarms in her head. Who in their right mind would prefer to stay inside a humid horror? To wander around an animal’s undulating treasure vault. You’d have to be mad, or someone who didn’t see a ring as just a ring. 

It took long enough for the proverbial light bulb to go off above Hermione’s head, but she suddenly saw everything all too clearly.

_It’s a bloody horcrux._

“What year did you arrive here?”

“Nineteen-fifty six,” he replied, pushing a hand through his hair. “Obviously.”

“Is your name Tom?”

His eyes narrowed into suspicious slits. “Yes.”

“Oh fuck me,” Hermione groaned, and him lunging for her was the last thing she saw after she dropped her ring. A whoosh of air saving her from his choking hands, and Hermione was still screaming when she found herself shot out of a niffler’s pocket and flat on her ass in her office. 

The cabinet wide open. 

A hairy black creature scurrying out the door.

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all, I just wrote Tomione doing it in a niffler's flesh pocket. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it, hah
> 
> -Bunny


End file.
